Surprise Ending
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: Shauntal spends her Valentine's Day trying not to think about her and Grimsley's seemingly non-existent relationship, until she's forced to confront it when he appears at her door.


Repost, originally put up on Valentine's Day 2012.

It was to be a peculiar day for Shauntal. There she lay in bed, a little after midday, not even bothering to leave the warmth of blankets. In the past, she had a stack of notebooks by her bedside full of scattered, half-finished stories that would all be worked on with inefficient, erratic updates. Ten or twelve different stories could sit on the docket any given day, spread across anywhere from two to five different notebooks of various sizes, shapes, and conditions. Her usual strategy was to grab as many books as possible, buy them, and then figure out what their particular traits would make them best for. After that, she'd write them out on paper until completion, when she'd tear the pages out and type it up. It seemed inefficient, but something about the frantic scrawl of pen on paper sent her creative processes into a frenzy.

For the month, though, her entire writing process and inspiration had been shaken to its core by him. Grimsley. It just had to be him, didn't it? It fit the narrative, made for the perfect tale. The bookish woman swept off her feet by the mysterious, refined man. All he had to do was smile, and she just melted against him. A flash of his bright blue eyes and her back would bend in ways not possible for humans, if he so desired. The velvet smoothness of his voice, deep and resonant with faint traces of an accent, had become the host of dreams and fantasy. His touch was electric in ways that she had only ever wrote about before his skin first graced hers. Even the absurd haircut seemed dignified on him, refined and fitting of his smugness.

He had become her muse. It started their first night together, when she returned to her lavish quarters to find him reading her writings. Smut, almost all of it involving real people. Including him, more than once. Instead of anger, he asked that she write him something and then read it to him as they made love. The mad, frantic rush of inspiration wasn't just a single, fleeting night as she expected. He wanted more stories, more of her. The anticipation of feeling him inside of her, or his lips on her body, or his head between her legs, was the greatest motivation she could conceive of. On top of everything he was a very gifted lover, considerate and blessed with a touch of gold. Every encounter left her satisfied, so intense and spectacular that her appetite grew in their short time.

All told, her output increased dramatically. Even as new ideas struck her, her queue lessened considerably. She couldn't ask for much more, creatively.

Emotionally, however, their trysts left much to be desired. The sex may have been spectacular, but it was most of what they did. There was passion and intensity, but none of the romance she longed for. She was head-over-heels for Grimsley, had ruined half of her pairs of pantyhose for the sake of their mutual kink, and longed to lie in bed with him outside of the afterglow. It almost felt unfair that she should meet a guy capable of tearing away all of her reasoning and clear-headedness, willing to tear off her clothes and ravish her, but never went beyond the physical. It was a tragedy waiting to run its course, but how? The trite answer would send her into the muscular arms of a roguish stable boy with shoulder-length hair, a thought so guilty that she was a little embarrassed to even make the joke.

Damn his smile.

It was Valentine's Day. Most couples were off, or would be off when it was no longer early afternoon, being romantic and spending time together. The Elite, however, lay in bed, still in her nightgown from the night before. It was a sleek purple number that hugged her slight curves and round breasts nicely. Her purple hair was usually kept neatly in a bob cut, but she hadn't bothered brushing it that morning, so it looked more than a little messy. Ever-present was a pair of rimless glasses. Her prone position, legs kicked up slightly and her head leaning down to look at what she wrote on the journal atop her pillow, meant that her glasses kept sliding down her nose a little, something she regularly had to drop her pen to rectify.

Instead of being bitter that her and Grimsley's encounters ensured a lonely Valentine's Day left wishing their relationship meant more, she lost herself in the story world she had crafted. Negative emotions would do her no good, better left on the side as she rushed to finish Darach and Caitlin's tearful reunion.

Her hair was several feet longer than it had been when she left him, but as their embrace tightened, he had no problems in running his fingers through the now-golden locks. Tears of joy welled up in their eyes, but the valet was far better at controlling himself. The psychic's hair began to flutter, rising upward in a progressively steadying motion, spreading outward. A brief flash of worry hit his vision before the hair came back down again.

"It's okay," she reassured him, stroking one cheek as she planted a small kiss on the other. "I'm in control now. I just-I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea. So long spent suppressing my emotions that it's just a little difficult. I'll be okay."

He smiled radiantly at her. "I know you will. But if you aren't, do not bottle it up again. I can't stand for you to leave and wander another region again without me. I've taken care of you, battled for you, done anything you've asked. And if I need to, I'll do it all over again, for you."

The page flipped, but as Shauntal brought her pen down, a familiar knock at the door sent her body rigid. Three slow knocks, the ensuing silence almost ominous in how it hung over her. There was no mistaking it for someone else's. At the door stood everything that made her tumultuous, everything she had tried to suppress for the day. And yet, she walked to the door in bold defiance of her hesitation. Whether brave or stupid would depend on how it went.

There was a second when she grasped the handle that she wanted to pull the door open and shout at him. Make him feel bad for all of it and give him an ultimatum. Letting fly all of her rage, probably throwing in a few tears, and letting him know how she actually felt. It didn't last, though, and she slowly opened the door, a meek sat look on her face as Grimsley stood with a wide, cheshire grin. The dark-type elite was always snappily dressed. His suit was blue with some red and white thrown in, as though it was cut from the fabric of a roulette table. Somehow, he made it look dignified, though, the long yellow scarf probably helping matters there. His shoes were fine leather, expensive enough that he'd nearly lost them more than a few times at the casino because their worth made them a good buy-in. He rarely wore socks, but again, he managed to pull it off with class. What really caught the eye, though, were his. A piercing, almost ethereal bright blue that, despite his slight build, made him look intimidating. The smarmy grin constantly worn on his face gave him an air of arrogance and aristocracy that he certainly lived up to.

She noted that one arm was behind his back, a peculiar thing that could have well meant someone came by looking for gambling debts he'd conveniently forgotten about and sent him a message. Stranger things happened around Unova's Pokemon League.

The smile soured a little as he looked at her. "You're hardly presentable."

She scoffed, taking a step back. "You sure know how to treat a woman, you know that? Not only do we do nothing on Valentine's Day, but you show up at my door just to complain I don't look presentable?"

"Nothing planned?" The frown turned into a look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Today is Valentine's Day. It's the day that couples do things. But I guess we don't really count as a couple. All you do is come into my room, tear my pantyhose, have sex, and leave."

"Don't you like the sex?" he shrugged, still keeping his arm firmly behind his back. It was starting to get a little suspicious.

"Of course I d-that's not the point! We're so close to being an actual couple at this point that, you know what? It hurts that we're doing nothing. It hurts that I end up in bed with a guy who can treat my body so well, but end it there. When we first started, I thought you were one of the best things that ever happened to me, but you can't even be in a relationship with me? Love me? How long do you think I-"

He stopped her, placing a finger on her lips. It elicited a fiery response as she glared up at him through her wide lenses and her hands began to ball up into fists. "But I do."

Everything came to a crashing halt, Shauntal doing a double-take as she looked at him, the fire in her eyes gone immediately. She could almost hear the sound of glass shattering in her head as she mustered a stupefied, "What?"

Grimsley sighed, pulling the arm out from behind him at last to reveal a bouquet so large she couldn't even fathom how he managed to hide it from her. A dizzying arrangement of colours burst out at her, so breathtaking that even with no knowledge of flowers she could tell that only a master of the craft could have pulled it off. He handed them to her. "I had to cash in a favour or two for this. Erika is very busy this time of year."

"They aren't!" she said with wide eyes, the thin plastic she held it by making crackling sounds.

"Straight from Celadon City, and arranged by the gym leader herself. It's always so stuffy in here with wall-to-wall books, I felt some colour would-"

She nudged him on the shoulder forcefully before averting her gaze. Happiness forced through her eyes, and she couldn't let him see. "T-this needs a vase."

"We can go buy one," he suggested, closing the door as he stepped in and placed his hands on Shauntal's. "On our way home from dinner."

Even on the emotional roller coaster she had seemingly sent herself on, the feeling of his hands on her bare arms soothed her, made her feel at home. "Dinner?" she asked like an awe-struck child being told Santa had come a second time and asking his mother for confirmation.

"Dinner," he said lowly. "And not out of a styrofoam container or a bag, either. A restaurant. A real one."

"But all this time, I was worried-"

"That it was only physical? So I guess all this time, I was the only one actually in this relationship?"

She turned around a little. "That's not what I-"

Again he cut her off, this time with a kiss. He pulled her close, embracing her as he gave her the softest kiss they'd ever shared. "So maybe I'm lousy at all the romantic things you expected, that you write about. But I thought you were happy with what we did. I certainly was. And here I am now, with flowers and a dinner reservation for the two of us."

"Y-you have no idea how happy this makes me." She gave him a hefty hug, at least by her standards. "I was worried you were taking me for a ride."

"In all fairness, dear, you were the one doing most of the riding." He flashed his pearly smile at her and grabbed her wrist in the midst of a large, over-exaggerated fake slap. "And while I'd love to take advantage of how sparsely dressed you already are, I'd love much more if you'd go get dressed. We can hardly go to a restaurant of such prestige with your hair a mess."

She hugged him tighter. "Hm, in a minute. This feels nice."

When, later that night, the door swung open again, the tone was lighter. Shauntal hung off of Grimsley's arm with a wide smile on her face and a bounce in her step that wasn't driven by joy, but that extra glass of wine she shouldn't have drank. Her nightgown had been replaced with a purple dress that hugged her body, along with pantyhose and black gloves. Her signature black shawl, looking like a flower made of dark purple and bound by a wide ovular orange brooch, was kept at home for its impracticality. As the door shut behind her, she leaned in to give her date a long, heavy kiss. That she could still taste the garlic bread on his breath couldn't bother her. She was way too happy and love-drunk for that.

Making up for his admitted lousiness at 'romantic things', their first date entailed not only fancy dinner, but also a double feature of trashy movies at a beaten-up drive-in in Opelucid City. There was a visceral enjoyment to the cheesy, low-budget schlock of Valentine's Slay and The Creeping Terrakion that lightened up the mood. It was, bar none, the most unconventional first date she'd ever been on, even ignoring that their relationship had gone in entirely the wrong order. Bad movies and high-end food. Some of the fanciest she'd tasted in a long time, too. After so long cooped up in the Elite Four tower and eating various take-outs and delivery foods out of boxes or containers, she'd forgotten what 'real' food tasted like.

To cap the evening off, they returned to her home, spirits high. He had been a complete gentleman through the date, acting as though it had been their first and keeping his hands and lips off of her accordingly. They had their time to play pretend, but now Shauntal looked forward to a better form of play. Their kiss led to them to the foot of the spiral staircase whose walls were lined with bookshelves. Their hands met as their lips parted ways, and something in Shauntal wanted to pull him by the arm frantically, running up the stairs like a couple of crazy kids. Of course, that seemed far too undignified for someone like-

Grimsley beat her to it, his face almost entirely a smile as he got the jump on her, clearing several steps and tugging on her arm. Shauntal laughed out and chased after him. It wasn't like him, but maybe she didn't quite have him entirely figured out yet. After all, she had spent her morning trying to fight back tears at the thought of him only having interest in her sexually, only for him to show up at her door with a date already booked. Yes, he would prove to be full of surprises to her, wouldn't he?

When they reached the top and threw all of their momentum into a fall on the bed, laughing all the while, everything felt familiar again. Though they enjoyed the oddness of their date, it all came back to their usual haunt in the end. Her bed. They lay on their sides, moving in for another kiss as Shauntal's leg hooked over his body for leverage. As her lower lip was drawn between his, she threw some momentum into her shoulder and they rolled over so that he lay on his back and she atop him. Her body pressed tightly to his, as a stray hand found its way into her hair.

She reached over to her bedside table where a spiral-bound green notebook lay. Her palm pressed down on the cover and fidgeted about a little in an attempt to get a solid hold on it, only to stop as something weighed her down. It was his hand, seizing her wrist gently.

"No, not tonight," he said.

Their kiss abruptly ended and, though glasses halfway down her nose, she looked at him curiously. "You mean you don't want to-"

"I do. But I don't want to know what happens to other people. Just us, tonight, dear." He pulled her wrist back toward them, released it, and pulled her into a hug as their kiss commenced. "I love hearing your voice at the height of pleasure, but just not now. We're alone tonight."

Her eyes shut tightly as she tried to hide a couple tears welling up. A tremble in her lip betrayed her, though, and she broke the kiss again, planting her hands beside his waist. There was one thing she had, curiously enough, never done for him. Because she always had to talk, even after a month together she had never given him oral sex. By contrast, she had lost count of the nights he spent buried between her legs, inspiring her to spin tales for his ears. It was one of the things that really made her fall for him and push her feelings past infatuation. After giving him such a wonderful date and delaying hearing about Flint and Volkner for another night, she felt it was time to pay his kindness back.

As she worked her way down his body, he cocked an eyebrow. "What are you doing, love?" he asked as she began to work his pants off. He knew, obviously, but since they had never done it before he felt it bore asking.

She didn't respond, now eye level with his pelvis just as he kicked the pants off of his ankle, underwear gone with them. His penis stood rigid before her, and suddenly she panicked a little. Her hand reached out to begin stroking it as her mind frantically tried to think. Regardless of how many times she had felt it inside her, almost every night for an entire month, she was now in unfamiliar territory. She wasn't inexperienced by any means, but how could she know what made him tick? They worked up a rapport and his golden touch had sent her aflame so many times that she couldn't disappoint him. Of all the nights to decide to give him their first blow job, and they ended up with the worst possible night.

Nervous as she may have been, though, time was much more of an enemy. She couldn't leave him waiting. That would be worse than a disappointing performance. She'd have to make do and hope she didn't underwhelm him too much. Her eyes shut tightly as she tried to think back to the last time she even had to do this. Lucian had been so long ago, perhaps almost two years, and memories of that didn't prove very helpful. Her mouth reached forward, tongue reaching out to his tip, as her brain frantically to work something out. The other hand pressed onto his thigh as she spread out onto the bed and angled her head such that her glasses wouldn't fall off.

The only other thing she could fall back on was her writing. Certainly, she had written more blow jobs in her life than anyone she could think of had ever performed. It wasn't much for practical knowledge but she was in a pinch and it would have to do. Thinking back, she pulled on the last one she had written.

Even with half of his penis buried in Flint's mouth, Volkner remained completely stoic and-

No. No, she wouldn't. It was just them. She and Grimsley. It would remain just them; thinking about the two Sinnoh trainers betrayed that idea, even if it was just for reference.

Grimsley titled his head a little, looking down at his girlfriend, her eyes shut tightly. Each motion was thick with apprehension and worry, rife with uncertainty. He watched as her tongue run slow circles around him tip, her head drawing in slowly, lips parting with anticipation. It was a curious sight; he knew she was experienced, had known her so good a kisser that her oral skills were a foregone conclusion. But, for reasons that mystified him, she moved with the uncertainty of an amateur, of a young girl taken to bed by an older, dangerous man and worried she wouldn't be as good as his every other conquest. Was she worried about pleasing him? The thought of Shauntal shy and blushing harder than Fennel was adorable, widening his ever-present grin. He had to let her out of her shell or it would be enjoyable for neither of them. Him least of all.

As her soft lips pressed to his warm, aroused flesh, he let out a moan heavier than he would have otherwise, his leg jerking a little. He pressed his hand to her cheek, brushing fingertips against the soft purple hair that framed her face. As the sounds and touch sent off messages to her brain, her eyes flung open. She saw Grimsley, mouth hanging open, eyes tightly shut, and shoulders lifted a little off the bed. Had she really-maybe she was too hard on herself. Her lips tightened a little, head sinking downward, as her hand picked up the pace a little. Yes, much too hard on herself. She was experienced, never having trouble bringing lovers to orgasm. Even during her first, failed lesbian experiment, she had at least left her partner satisfied. With renewed confidence, she threw all worry to the wind and gave him the treatment he deserved.

The next moan out of Grimsley's lips was not exaggerated. With only scarce encouragement, she had been coaxed out of her worries. He could barely tell what came over her by the sudden rush of pleasure his nerves fired off as a result. The hand on his leg tightened a little, and his entire body followed suit.

Pantyhose-clad legs were pressed tight together as they rubbed against each other. No longer concerned about whether or not she'd make him feel good-and maybe a bit too self-assured in the other direction-she could finally take the time to experience things. She could taste the hot flesh sliding in and out of her mouth, grown slick with her saliva. She could feel every movement me made, including an occasional jerking of his hips. And most of all, she became very, very aware of sudden arousal. It was almost a fight to keep the hands on his shaft and thigh as they struggled to leave his skin and tend to hers. They kept on-task, however reluctantly.

The aristocrat bit down on his lower lip to keep another ragged moan from spilling out. He was hardly in a dignified position. Usually, she was in his lap or her thighs were on either side of his head. He was giving her the pleasure, smugly watching as she moaned and writhed from the feelings he gave her. He could hold onto his composure only by focusing on how unfettered she was. Now, though, he could only look down, see her eyes looking up hungrily at him from behind her wide, rimless glasses. The sight wore down at him, pulled the sick satisfaction out of his face. Anything other than pure expression of the bliss her mouth granted him was a struggle harder than any battle he'd fought in months. His head rolled along his shoulders against the pillow and against his will.

Seeing him surrender to her touch and his body betray his will, nonverbally telling her to keep on course, made her ache. A moan rumbled in her throat and her body pressed hard against the bed. It was a strange sight, Grimsley's poker face breaking and almost making him appear vulnerable. Inspiration surged within her, intertwining tightly with arousal. The scratching sound of pen on paper in her mind had to be forced down as she focused on making him feel good, her mouth and hand now at its fastest and most delicate. Her long, spidery fingers held tightly onto his thick, almost throbbing shaft. The hand on his thigh held down tightly, as if her life depended on keeping the grip, as his hips began to buck steadily into her mouth. He was so close that all of her senses could perceive it.

His hands grabbed fistfuls of bed as he came, his composure shattering and some words of promise he was only dimly aware of the meaning to forcing their way out of his mouth loudly. He emptied into her mouth as she kept up her treatment. A louder moan from her vibrated all the saliva coating his shaft and teased his now overly sensitive member.

When she pulled away and his penis flopped out of her mouth, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You really mean that, don't you? I-I love you too, Grimsley." Before he could say anything, she skittered up his body and kissed frantically at his cheek. Assuming the words must have been "I love you", his body eased up as the post-orgasmic tightening ceased. It wasn't the worst thing he could have said; at least he meant that.

Still rigid, the feeling of her soft thigh rubbing against his shaft through her pantyhose thrilled him. "Are you ready?" She wore one of the torn pairs they kept up for convenience, thrown on in case something happened during dinner and they needed some subtlety. Since they hadn't used it, it ended up just getting in the way and forcing her to be mindful of how she sat.

She nodded, adjusting her body so that she sat up in his lap, his shaft poised up against her entrance. His penis pressed against her pussy lips, fitting nicely in the groove they formed, and a jerk of his hips against her made it grind against her clit. The resulting pleasure wave made Shauntal yelp and throw her head back. Her breasts pushed forward and her body wriggled a little. That make Grimsley smirk a little, a minor return to the natural order of things.

Another roll of his hips, and she cried out, "Stop teasing me already!"

"I'm merely setting things right again," he said with velvet smoothness. In return, his lover scoffed at him as she grabbed his base and manoeuvred her body around to get into position. As Shauntal slid down his penis, he realized that, despite having told her he loved her, it didn't really count for him. He was barely even aware he said it, words thrown out of their own volition during orgasm. It hardly felt appropriate to leave her hanging. As her hands pressed down on his chest and she began to rise, he cleared his throat. "I love you, Shauntal."

She cocked her head. "And you felt the need to say it twice? Now you've gone soft on me, haven't you?" She leaned in and gave him a light kiss. No tongue, no heaviness. Just their lips pressed together. "I love you too, though." 


End file.
